There is No If
by Zephyre
Summary: Hermione slowly finds a friend in a man she never anticipated anything but hatred from.
1. Chapter 1

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There is No If…

Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money from this. The copyright belongs to several book companies and to Warner Bros and no infringement is intended_. _This applies to all future chapters._

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Coupling: _Severus Snape and Hermione Granger._

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Rating: _R for eventual consensual sex between adults, some violence and adult themes._

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Summary: _Hermione slowly finds a friend in a man she never anticipated anything but hatred from._

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A/N: _Yes I have delved into the HG/SS world. This has been progressing slowly for a long time and I probably won't be updating any more than once every couple of months because I edit the death out of this piece in order to make it the best I can and I try to live a little. Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome, flames will be used to try and burn down my workplace. _

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Chapter One

"Damn that stupid seeing slut." Severus growled as he stepped down and away from that pathetic excuse of a classroom. Had it not been sheer necessity that had forced Severus toward that farce he would have avoided that vanilla scented silly bint until her next annual drunken sexual advance at Christmas. Which he had never used to his advantage of course. He would sooner shag McGonagall and that was about as likely as Voldemort turning around and becoming a born anew good guy. No, his reasons for visiting were far from amicable. The dream had been recurring since the demise of his beloved flower of death nearly eighteen years ago; but over the past couple of months some of the faces had changed and it had become far more persistent. Consuming the Dreamless Sleep potion had proven futile and Severus did not wish to become addicted. Instead he usually added the scenes to the nearly identical collection in his penseive, but this was no longer a satisfactory process. It now lingered, spider threads revisiting at inopportune times. Vivid scenes, smells advanced like rampaging Death Eaters and haunted him far more than most of his nightmares. But the feelings that accompanied those flashing scenes were the worst facet of all. It made Severus remember that he had feelings, real, deep feelings that have the ability of making your viscera feel like it is doing the tango in your ribcage. The frigid face he portrayed before his students and colleagues was so effective that Severus himself often forgot that there were so many layers hiding behind that mask. This dream was a reminder. A fairly constant reminder. Severus didn't feel that he needed a reminder of the layers which had long been buried after their life on the surface during his youth. He simply did not wish to remember that part of what he considered his former self. So the visit to Trelawney had been a last resort, a pathetic attempt at trying to save an already lost soul. Somewhere deep in reason Severus had believed that Dumbeldore must have some faith in the abilities of the being beneath the organdie and lace. But after he had completely wasted his time Severus had lost that inkling of faith and seriously questioned the Headmaster's state of mind whilst hiring such a sadistic, pathetic excuse of a chiromancer. True that genuine seers are ultimately feared and extraordinarily rare, but Severus reasoned that most women possess some level of intuition and surely anyone would be a better candidate for teaching students than that evil flake of a woman.

Sibyll had asked for the finer details of Severus' dream, of which he had refused to give. Seer or not Trelawney was the Gossip Queen of Hogwarts and he would not divulge details that would serve to further slander his name. No wonder Miss Granger could not handle that woman; she had brains enough to see through that airy-fairy bullshit.

Miss Hermione Granger.

Had that insufferable Gryffindor not been muggle born, initially possessed a compulsion to raise her hand at anything that remotely resembled a question and had not been chosen by that bewitched hat as 'Loyal, valiant and true' there was definite potential for her to be a Slytherin.

That potential had amplified since the tragic events of fifth year.

Hermione's unbearable hand had not risen in almost two years, but her ambition had never wavered. Her willingness to learn was akin to Severus' own at a comparable age. Of course temperaments were vastly different, but that ability for absorption of knowledge through reading was something Severus felt was all too familiar. And in the unslept hours where the curtain of darkness was drawn across the land it worries the humanitarian in Severus Snape, which generally also remained sufficiently buried. The quest for knowledge, for experience does not always lead to a world of light. Aspects of Severus' mind would contest one another, like the two hemispheres of his brain had adopted opposing arguments and the corpus callosum rallied these from one side to the other. Hermione Granger being the companion of the confounded Boy-Who-Lived; her natural inclination would be of goodness; but that quest for knowledge, that elusive Holy Grail of experience was often more alluring than what would seem blatantly apparent. And since the slaughter of her parents she had lost the two things that probably were the most successful in keeping her grounded.

Severus also realised that Miss Granger had drawn significant attention to herself in both pastel and midnight circles. With Mr. Potter's premature acceptance into the Order of the Phoenix and his subsequent training of Mr. Weasley of course Hermione would be spoken of and her actions scrutinised for future potential as an Aurora or something greater requiring more cognition. But she had also drawn attention from darker circles of existence and Voldemort had been attracted to her diligence, passion and intelligence. All desirable qualities for servants of the Dark Lord. Lucious Malfoy also kept a cold eye on her, but this seemed more because of the way his noticed his son and heir watched that dark-eyes mudblood. But Draco was not alone in his staring at Hermione as though she was a ripe peach, waiting to be consumed.

As Severus stormed back down the levels of Hogwarts to his dungeons he wondered at the necessity for teaching Divination at all. Whilst trying to extract information Sibyll Trelawney had gently touched on Severus' more primal thoughts towards Miss Granger, but Severus had swiftly steered her away from such things. The Queen of would revel in some of the thoughts of any many still possessing a libido.

Severus had of course considered Hermione's relationship future, although he would never admit the true reason why his thoughts would linger in what would seem such delectable, but inaccessible corners. Severus supposed that it was simply the result of the subconscious acknowledging a like-minded creature, who happened to be a rather pretty young woman. He also knew the positive and negative repercussions of these characteristics. Intelligence initially hides in the shadow of charisma, thus attracting attention, sexually intended or otherwise; as seen through Viktor Krum who had been coldly discarded after a sexual pass had not been to Hermione's liking. Also, once intelligence reveals itself alone over an extensive period of time it pushes people away. People attract people of similar intelligence, so once acceleration beyond one's own intellect is recognised, rejection ensues. Severus feared this process would be accelerated in Hermione's case, because being a woman it would be viewed as a form of intimidation; and men, admittedly or otherwise generally cannot accept a woman who can run rings around their mental capacity. This, in Severus' mind was the reason that Ronald Weasley fights with Hermione so frequently. He believes he loves her but cannot stand the fact that he makes her appear as if he is in a stupor. Severus could certainly understand why Ronald was drawn to his female companion; Hermione was the first woman without the distinctive hair of flames of the Weasley clan that had shown him care. She had changed from a young compadre to an admired young woman, who despite of maturing and changing still clung onto him as a shoulder to cry on and a friend to laugh with. Although a strange rumour had recently erupted, it speculated that Hermione had forgotten to laugh. Even Weasley and Potter despite their antics found themselves truly challenged in attempting to get some cheerful noise peeling from Hermione's mouth. This was quite possibly another contributing factor towards the Granger/Weasley tumultuous friendship, however this was no means the pivotal aspect. Severus believed that Mr. Weasley found Hermione's intelligence something of an athame. Ronald admired Hermione's brains and appreciated the outcomes of her brains when it involved illegal matters or general mischief; but cannot stand the little scholar who appreciates the grandeur of the written word and absorbs so many things, which in Mr. Weasley's mind remain far beyond comprehension. Hermione had also never picked up the rose tinted glasses, which Weasley rarely seems to take off.

The friendship between the confounded boy-who-keeps-on-living and Miss Granger is somewhat more complex and yet simpler Severus believed, but did not wish to attempt to find rest with Potter on the mind. So his thoughts continued to wander with him along the ancient and empty hallways. Severus pondered little on his own past walking the same areas, instead preferring to darkly wonder if he should be cursed to walk the same hallways until he could walk no more or his hair had fallen out from too many years of absorbing botched potions. While he did not like this possibility, he reasoned that his penance would probably never be completed and his cycle of Samsara would continue infinitely.

Severus rounded the corner closest to once again entering his own domain when something of middle height and evidently not looking where it was going crashed into him. It did not occur to Severus that he himself had also not been at the height of observation. Just as he was preparing to lecture about the importance of watching where one was going and losing numerous points for being out after curfew and daring to run into him a gentle, barely audible sob escaped the mouth of the perpetrator.

"Sorry." It croaked in a manner making it difficult to discern gender.

"Well I should think so…" Severus stopped as the student also stopped and the hood of the cloak fell to reveal a great bush of waves and coffee eyes, bordered in pink and puffiness. It was the first time Severus could recollect seeing her cry or show any deep, genuine emotion since she had been informed of her parents demise.

"Miss Grang… Hermione, are you quite alright?"

Hermione's head jerked up at her Potions Professor's use of her first name for the first time.

"Not really" she whispered and bolted down the hallway.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One_

_**Warning:** A Couple of Naughty Words in this Chapter_

Hermione curled her legs underneath her as she lost herself in a book entailing archaic potions. This was by no means an unusual way to find the Head Girl, however over the past two years it had leapt out of the habit box and seemed to be approaching the compulsion box instead. While the overall purpose behind the reading never really changed, the mechanisms associated with it had. Hermione always read, but more recently it had taken on the additional function of escapism. With her thoughts lost in the words on the pages, existence ceased to be a challenge. She simply disappeared into the ancient and potent smelling pages. The truth was reality hurt too much.

Harry and Ron increasingly left Hermione to her own devices. They had tried initially to return her to some semblance of a life, but she had resisted. It didn't seem appropriate to go on as if nothing had ever happened. So Hermione did the best to adopt herself in a way she saw suitable and gradually attempted to fit herself into her new skin. Her new skin didn't fit her at all well, wrinkly and saggy, she often felt prematurely old, like she had been granted a Senior Citizen's discount and couldn't comprehend why. But Hermione accepted this unblinkingly and treated it as her penance for still being alive.

Buddhists believe that life is suffering and Hermione had adopted that mantra ever since she had been ushered into Dumbeldore's office and told the news which had initiated the hollow ache in her chest that had become her constant parasite. Books had become a temporary relief from that existence. Hermione completely emersed herself in the world between the pages, projecting her thoughts to times long before her own. This night she was Sofanisba, painter and Potions Mistress extraordinaire. Each Brushstroke represented a thousand emotions, thoughts, lifetimes. The rhythmical dance of paint on canvas an encompassing beat of a heart of pain swallowed by grief. This is reflected in the content and lighting. This is reflected in the suicidal amethyst light bouncing off Sofanisba's last ever-concocted potion...

A large masculine hand rested itself familiarly on Hermione's shoulder. She didn't even notice. "Hermione, come out of it." He shook her shoulder roughly. He had watched his friend emerse herself further and further into the world in her head and had decided it had to stop. He knew it had to stop.

Hermione's bushy head shook slowly, willing away the clinging claws of that last dark though. Her strong eyes looked up at Harry coldly. "What?"

Ron visibly winced in the background. The tension was so tangible that it could almost be grasped and clenched like a rubber remembrall. It had been building slowly, but steadily like a pyramid Khufu would be proud to present to the Gods. Now it seemed to fill every space and further itself by trying to fit where it could not.

"Hermione, you have to stop this. I'm worried about you, we both are. I understand that it hurts, but you can't do this any more. It's not good for you and it is not what your parents would want. Surely you must sense that." Harry knew his approach was disjointed, but he hadn't really known what to say. All he knew was that Hermione had changed, becoming excessively introverted and it seemed to engulf her in a distant sadness that surrounded her like an aura.

"What would you know about it Harry? How can you understand? My only constant companion in a ache where it feels like my heart has been ripped out and fed to fluffy." Her words were tossed at Harry like darts of ice. Hermione was sick of people saying that they understand. There was no way it was understood by any of her peers. Her parents had been such a significant part of her life; they had practically been her life. They were the friends that didn't turn their backs on you because you had beaten them in a test or dared to wear the same sneakers two years running. They were her greatest allies and best confidants. They were the only family she had ever known or wanted to know. They were killed on a warm Friday evening. It had rained all week leaving the world feeling muggy, but Friday had awoken in a crown of sunlight. To celebrate such simple things was Granger tradition and her parents had decided to spoil themselves and eat out. Walking home in the silvery starlight a drunk driver hadn't seen or cared about the red traffic light and had run it, destroying Hermione's family in the process. He never even stopped. Her mother died instantly, looking simply as though she had fallen asleep in the middle of the road. Her father had in his last moments grabbed his wife, kissed her forehead and whispered "Be with you in a sec." Before sighing gently and joining his wife, lover and soulmate in the Netherworld.

"In what way wouldn't I understand Hermione? You're not the only one to lose your parents. At least you had the opportunity to have actual memories of your parents. You can remember them telling you that they love you and are proud of you. I never had any of that. I am in every way an orphan." Harry had grown quite fed up with Hermione's attitude. He realised that it must hurt a lot, but Hermione had to stop wallowing in self-pity and start living again.

"It's different." Hermione was trying to brush him off. She didn't want any of this. She wanted to hide in her personal room with Crookshanks purring in her ear, drowning out all other sounds of existence.

"How?" Harry Grabbed Hermione's slender wrists. Several other Gryffindors watched from various parts of the common room. "Explain to me how it is different. We both have no parents. We both lost them. I am an orphan, I know nothing else. Your difference cannot be worse than that."

Hermione's head jolted up fiercely, she freed herself of his hand roughly. Her eyes blazed with a fire that rivalled the flames keeping the Gryffindors warm. "Harry you can be so insolent. Don't you dare play the I'm a poor little orphan card on me, because I won't take it. You don't understand and you never will. Your parents died for a greater purpose, there was a reason; mine were taken out by some FUCKING DRUNK ARSEHOLE IN A CAR!" Softly she added, "When you lose both your parents you still become an orphan despite of your age."

The Gryffindors watched, morbidly interested in this argument before them. Hermione had undoubtedly changed since her parents had passed away, but none of them had ever heard her use the language or the tone she was violently throwing at Harry.

"How can you possibly understand Harry? You never had parents; you never had what I did. You have no recollection of moments that make you laugh or arguments that now make you cry more than ever. You don't have these vivid memories that chew away at your soul and slice up your heart with every beat. It is most certainly not the same Harry and you are showing your immaturity by assuming that it is. Just leave me be." Tears now welled freely, diluting her anger to the more familiar encompassing grief.

But she had stirred the anger pot of Harry's emotions so effectively that he had risen above levels generally considered normal, his eyes blazing like copper thrust into the flame of a Bunsen burner. His magic crackled around him, forcing the other Gryffindors to unwittingly take a step backwards. He blocked Hermione's escape and she stared at him incredulously.

"I can't believe you just said that Hermione. The way you have carried on these past two years is pathetic. You would think that you were the only person in the world who has lost their parents. Hermione you need to deal and move on."

Hermione, blinded by her pain could not see that Harry, in his strange male adolescent way was actually trying to get her past the rut she had been stuck in for far too long. The emotions she had been denying for two years were now pumping like blood through her body.

Hermione's frigidity fractured spectacularly.

"DEAL WITH IT?" she roared at Harry, her own magic now crackling as well. "I should just DEAL with it? Do you think about the words that gurgle out of your mouth? Do you just DEAL with the fact that your parents were blown up by Voldemort? Your actions over the years would suggest otherwise. I am terribly sorry that my pathetic little existence has impeded so much on your life of late. Now get the hell out of my way."

Hermione moved to step passed him, but Harry mirrored her.

"No." He tried to use his height advantage as an intimidation tactic. "You have been on a pedestal too long and it hasn't helped you learn to mourn, to move on. I think you need to hear some home truths."

"Harry, I'm asking you to move."

"No."

Their respective magic power engulfed the room, most of the younger Gryffindors had left in fear and lack of understanding, but the others watched in bewilderment at this unique and strange display of power they instinctively knew that they themselves did not possess. You could feel the waves of power and anger like magnets attracting and blocking energy, a couple of students were anticipating a bolt of lightning to tear apart the common room.

"Harry," Hermione sighed resignedly "as a friend I am asking you to move."

"No." He repeated louder.

The witnesses to this argument would never really be able to explain the unravelling of the outcome, because they hadn't really seen it as such. One minute Harry was virtually yelling 'NO' at Hermione; and the next he was on the floor thrashing with angry eyes blazing, stuck in a bind that had not resulted from controlled power with a wand. In fact Hermione's hands had never left her sides. What they could say is that Hermione pulled up the hood of her cloak, stepped calmly over Harry's body and slammed the portrait shut as she left a completely dumbfounded room.

Hermione had been well aware of their audience and hated it. By breakfast it would be the talk of the school. What had made it worse was the extent of the fault line that had now developed in her and Harry's friendship.

Hermione walked, not really paying much attention to her surroundings or where her feet were taking her. She allowed the tears to flow and the thoughts to swirl wildly. Everything hurt so much. The ache in her chest seemed to have inexplicably grown and now what was her life at Hogwarts was rapidly disintegrating into a mess. She no longer felt like anywhere was home.

Hermione hadn't realised she had been heading for the dungeon until she found herself staring at the closed and ancient wooden door. She wondered what had brought her there and then figured that perhaps that part of the brain where she had become Sofanisba had decided to make itself prominent again. Hermione did not wish to see Professor Snape at that point in time. While she believed that a one-on -one conversation with him would probably be intellectually stimulating, she did not feel that he would currently appreciate the intrusion nor be sympathetic to her plight.

She decided to go to the library instead.

As Hermione started to walk off the horrible way Harry had spoken to her re-emersed itself and she felt fresh tears pattern her face. Just as she rounded the first corner toward the library she bumped into blackness. An involuntary sob escaped her lips. "Sorry." She croaked in a voice that did not sound like her own. She didn't want to look up.

"Well I should think so..." The smooth baritone reply a perfect example of darkness and silk. Hermione winced and her cloak fell away from her head as she anticipated a lecture and loss of house points.

"Miss Grang...Hermione, are you quite alright?"

Hermione looked at him, blurry as he was through her tears and regarded him sadly. Part of her brain acknowledged that it was the first time he had addressed her informally, but the anger that was still rolling waves within her made her wish to retaliate with a biting remark more characteristic of the man she was staring at.

Instead Hermione opted for the flight reflex.

"Not really." She replied sadly and bolted away from the Slytherin Head of House.

_Authors Comments:_

I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who reviews this story, as well as everyone who reads it and doesn't leave a comment. I realise how annoying it can be anticipating the next chapter that seems to take forever to be posted. Unfortunately life away from the keyboard usually prevails, but I will try to not be too horrible and make those who are still reading wait too long. The next few chapters have already be written and are just awaiting my time to edit them again. Sigh

_Reviews from Chapter One:_

_Snapecake_ I hope you like this direction; _Granger_Thankyou and here it is.; _DeliahSerpent:_ Sorry to have kept you waiting so long.; _Gabriella Black: _Thank you so much for that enthusiastic review! _RC: _Sorry I can't write any faster, I have life to contend with.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_**Disclaimer:** See Chapter One_

Severus watched Hermione run away from him, her dark cloak riding the waves of night air behind her and sighed. Severus' duty of care meant he was obligated to follow her, despite clearly understanding that he was most probably among the last people she would wish to see. But he was forced to wonder what she was doing so close to the dungeons in the first place. The initial feeling which Severus supposed was sympathy was astutely replaced with anger. What would Miss Witch Britain 21st Century have to cry about? Her usual grief was not on so blatant a paint palate, so another motive would be responsible for the crocodile tears. It had to have been an act; a simple ploy to catch him off his guard and escape with whatever ingredient it was that she and her compatriots deemed necessary for their nefarious activities.

Oh, he would follow her alright.

Hermione ran without any real purpose or direction. She was simply fleeing unclear exactly where she was fleeing to. Gradually the clicking of her shoes on the well-worn flagstones brought her out of her blind reverie and Hermione stopped and looked around. She found herself in a dank, quiet and mainly unused quadrant of Hogwarts. The ancient paintings and tapestries were frayed and greyed with dust and time, their occupants now seemingly residing elsewhere. The high-arched ceilings were blackened from what looked to be the remnants of some long forgotten fire and spiderwebs clung to the shadows. Hermione half expected the Death of Rats to appear and smile at her, his little scythe relaxed at his side as he regarded her warmly and wondered at her presence in this dead place. Slowly she stepped into a rounded room that looked something like a cell and she wondered for the first time at her brief interlude with Professor Snape. The way he had looked at her momentarily before recapturing her usual persona did not make her feel as though she were as insignificant as a dropped potion ingredient crushed under his shoe. However, the snarl was promptly reattached to his face, although his voice had not matched his look of disdain. The voice was as much black silk as ever, but refined and hot in a Jeremy Irons way. Hermione shook her head and supposed hormones and emotional overload were the joint causes of that thought.

Her tears were still failing, but it was just physiology as the emotions behind them had ceased. They had been replaced with the cruel emptiness that always made you feel spelaean. Hermione had always likened it to an emotion sword being thrust into her side, ensuring that she was effusively dead. How could Harry have been so cruel? It was an action she would almost dub expected from Ron, who usually had the emotional maturity of a Billy-wig; but she had always believed that Harry understood her better emotionally. "Well that's one more false ideal squashed Hermione." She muttered and sighed so deeply that anyone within earshot would have received a good dose of empathetic grief. Suddenly Hermione felt very little and very alone and a new motive emerged for the tears.

Severus pondered his own sanity as he followed the circles of dust creating Celtic patterns in the air before him. It was an unused area of the castle and one that Severus semi-regularly patrolled for hormonal teenagers and various other illicit arrangements. It would be close to perfect for potion making, but Severus was no longer convinced with his own conviction. Hermione was excessively clever and yet appeared to be making no attempt to cover her tracks. She had upset the still air in the sparse section of the castle and her magic trail was very potent. Perhaps she had forgotten to cast the _viscerae_ spell that would have made her virtually undetectable. If there was one thing that Hermione Granger was not, it was thoughtless. She may possess the Gryffindor habit of jumping in headfirst with minimal consideration of the possible consequences, however activities that were to remain hidden were generally covered by all facets. That was how she had managed to get away with bloomslang skin so many years before and had escaped with much more since. Severus always had his suspicions, but never any evidence to support it.

Severus found her, balled at one edge of a dome shaped room, tears staining her face, which was mostly hidden by the mass of honey fuzz. She was evidently very alone and definitely had no potion making intentions whatsoever. Her sadness penetrated the dust, the air, his skin. She was like some strange X-Woman mutant with the ability to project emotions onto others, debilitating them. Severus knew that her barricaded world, which had until today only been chewed upon had suddenly found its walls smashing down spectacularly. The pain that she had failed to show for two years had obviously compounded; and it was so tangible that he felt very sorry for the woman-child before him, who was currently looking far more child than woman. Reluctantly Severus crouched down to her level, his knees creaking in protest. Tentatively he placed his hand on her arm. This time she noticed the human contact s a tear streaked face looked up at him with liquid caramel eyes glistening from too many tears.

"It is a nightmare I cannot escape." Hermione croaked. Severus didn't know what to say and probably wouldn't think of anything appropriate anyway so he opted for silence.

"Every morning I wake up feeling normal for the two whole seconds where my half asleep brain forgets that my existence was ruined by some arsehole in a car. Two whole seconds. That is until the thump of the empty chasm reinserts itself in my chest and remains until I fall asleep only to become my parasite again the following morning. How could Harry have been so thoughtless? Usually if something like this happens I would go to my parents. But...but..." A mixture of hiccups and tears ceased Hermione's current banter which was barely comprehensible to Severus through her current voice.

Severus knew that Hermione hadn't allowed herself to properly mourn the loss of her parents and now more than ever it had become highland air clear that the loss was slowly and completely consuming her. She and Harry had evidently argued about it. Boy Wonder probably thought it was time Hermione got over her grief. He was right, but more than likely went about it self-righteously and came out looking like a complete prat. Hermione needed to allow herself to heal, as she didn't realise what was crouching beside her was close to potentially being her reflection in him for not learning to forgive oneself and thus heal. Severus accepted it as his penance; the albatross forever adhered to his soul. But Hermione was highly unlikely to follow his path and if things went favourably she had the opportunity for far more happiness in her future. Severus sighed in a manner reminiscent of Hermione's own and she looked up at him as his own sadness and regret hit her. Impulsively she threw her arms around him, the child desperately needing reassurance that everything would turn out for the best.

Severus initially froze, so inappropriate and unusual was this action from a student. The Slytherin girls would barely ever seek his advice and for most part their cold exteriors were nothing compared to their glaciered souls. They were, in many ways tougher than the boys, primarily because they had little other choice. So here this Gryffindor Head Girl with her arms around her Potions Master sobbing like a toddler was completely throwing Severus. He instinctively went to push her off, uncomfortable with the proximity; but rapidly realised this would not be beneficial to the girl locking him in her slender arms. Slowly and reluctantly he dropped from his cramping knees to his arse and found himself wishing that his buttocks were more rotund. He sat cross-legged beside her as he gently rested his arms around Hermione's gently shaking form. As she habitually rested her head into his chest he noticed that she smelt of English Lavender and Lime, it was a nice, clear scent. Hermione rested her ear over his heart, which had suddenly increased its tempo.

"I used to fall asleep like this." Hermione whispered to Severus' stomach. "I would lay like this for hours with Dad when I was little. We would watch television together and I would rest my head over his heart, just listening. I always felt so safe that I would just doze off, his heartbeat being the last thing that I would remember." Her sobbing was steadily increasing again and Severus could sense her working herself back up for another free fall of tears.

"Shhh." He said, wondering if it was the first time he had utilised that noise and hoped he didn't sound too much like an angry snake. He started rocking her gently in the hug, hoping it would calm her as he remembered reading something about the rocking motion of hugging stimulating pleasure centres linked to the vestibular system, making it a good relaxant in times like these.

Unsure of himself, Severus silently cleared his throat. "My Grandfather was a brilliant storyteller. One of those people who could completely drag you into the tale. He always sat in this brilliantly hand carved cherrywood rocking chair, pipe lazily held in his left hand, waistcoat crooked. I was often left with him as a young boy while my parents were off performing various duties for whatever Dark Lord they were the sycophants of. While my parents were gone I would sit between him and the fireplace and barely move, completely enthralled in the fantastical tales of my only confidant."

Hermione lifted her head and looked at the man beside her. His eyes were black coals as ever, but glowing with an internal flame few had seen. "Go on." She prompted eventually

"He always edited the stories to suit my age, so when I was very young they were tales of pirates and adventure, rather than of Grindelwald and the havoc he created. Following Dark wizards is a Snape family tradition and expectation, Miss Granger. When I was seventeen he was murdered for defecting from some group he was a part of and of which I had no knowledge. Despite my earlier care for the man I hated him for keeping part of his life secret from me. I refused to go to any service for him and would not go anywhere near his house, which I had inherited. It took me far too long to open myself enough to mourn the loss of the man who was my true father figure in many ways. When I was twenty-five I finally went to his house and actually went inside. Despite the dust that had gathered over his things it was like he had never left and I was sorry for not saying goodbye properly." Severus shook his head unconsciously, wondering if he has been afflicted with some madness, normally he would not have divulged this information had he been tortured.

Sensing that Severus was not going to say anything else Hermione slowly spoke. "Harry and I had an argument tonight. I think he was trying to help me, but I don't want to be helped." Another sob escaped "I want to pretend it never happened. I want to have a normal life with normal parents."

Severus sighed. "There is no such thing as normal Miss Granger. While I have little tolerance for the boy I do not doubt Mr. Potter's loyalty to you as a friend. I am assuming that Wonder boy was rather self-righteous in his attitude and attempted to draw a parallel between his parents death and the demise of his own."

Hermione unwrapped herself from Severus and nodded.

"Of which there should be minimal comparison because the given circumstances are vastly different. However if I am to anticipate Mr. Potter's words I think he may have been accurate about one thing. No matter how much to want to hold on, you have to let go and move on, if your parents are anything like what you used to be I imagine that they would be distraught at discovering you in your current mind frame."

Hermione stood up slowly and regarded her Potion's Master thoughtfully. He was right of course, but that meant so was Harry. The tiny part of her brain not consumed by grief knew her parents would be horrified to see their beloved daughter in her current state.

Severus ungracefully stood up also, various clicking noises emanating from different body parts in protest. "Miss Granger, I would suggest it is a good idea if I proceed to walk you to your dormitory. Do try and get some sleep. I do not think it conducive for either of us to end up ill as a result of staying in this chill for too long."

Silently they walked back towards the Head Girl's room, but the usual discomfort associated with Severus walking with any student was absent. Just before she stepped into her private quarters she turned around.

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, what is it?"

Hermione chewed on her lip. "Um, do you think it would be possible for me to arrange a trip to my home? I have some things that I believe I should do."

"I will arrange it with Professor Dumbeldore if you wish."

Hermione nodded and Severus turned back toward his own rooms. Just as he rounded the first corner. Hermione again broke the silence.

"Professor Snape."

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Thank you."

__

_Authors Notes:_

The Death of Rats is an allusion to Terry Prachett's brilliant Discworld series.

There was also a very obvious allusion to Coleridge's "Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner."

I was totally blown away by the response to Chapter 2, so I just want to say Thanks to everyone who reviewed.

**Lestats Cladia**: Thanks heaps and here it is.

**Severessa**: Thank you very much for your compliments. I am putting a bit of emotion in this story. I promise that it won't be all dark and hopefully the rift between Harry and Hermione will heal.

**Thouandl**: Your forgiveness is happily received. I am glad you think this story had potential and thank you for your compliments about the argument between Hermione and Harry. They are both very powerful and it's bound to have interesting repercussions when they lose control.

**Midnight Lilly**: Ron was rather quiet throughout the fight, maybe he is going to have his say a bit later. Harry is sort of thinking about wheat Hermione is feeling, but doesn't articulate it especially well. No you don't ever get over the loss of someone you love, you just learn to grieve and get by without them.

**Carol**: The tenses in Chapter 2 were hard to do well because the chapter was part tenses and further past tense and I had to try and differentiate between the two. I also didn't do as much editing as usual, which was obvious apparently ;). You are right, there will be repercussions from the scene of uncontrolled power and they may be long lasting. I don't think anyone has ever thanked me for writing before like you did; so I thank you for that huge compliment.

**Becky-Kelly**: Here it is, I hope you enjoy.

**Imhilien**: Thank you for your review and I hope this chapter was up to standard.

_I have a couple of large assessments for uni due in the next couple of weeks so this story is going to have to sit on the backburner until after the 20th September. I am sorry about the wait and will endeavour to get back to it ASAP._


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